


Little Lion Man

by Erisachan



Category: Marvel
Genre: Bucky's mom and dad dies, but better safe than sorry, which is canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 08:32:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4094146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erisachan/pseuds/Erisachan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Mom si not with us anymore, Becky.”<br/>I remember as it was yesterday my dad saying this exact words to my sister Rebecca, who just stared up at him in silent, with her big eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Lion Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheNovelust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNovelust/gifts).



** Little Lion Man **

 

 

 

“Mom si not with us anymore, Becky.”

I remember as it was yesterday my dad saying this exact words to my sister Rebecca, who just stared up at him in silent, with her big eyes.

Dad frowned at her attitude for a moment, he expected her to cry, to ask him why that happened, what he meant with that phrase exactly. I knew what he expected from her because I was expecting the same.

Instead, Becky just nodded, took our dad hand in hers and held tight on it - with hands so small that even using both of them wasn’t enough to cover his entirely - and kept staring at him with a firmness that didn’t fit in the eyes of a kid her age.

 

I envied her.

I felt inferior.

Because there, where she had been able to accept a reality so cruel as the death of her own mother, I had shaken my head like a spoiled kid, denying a reality that I hated with every fiber of my being.

 

I remember wanting to cry while we were walking back from the hospital, I still had in my eyes the image of my mother’s face, her closed eyes, the cheeks swollen by the illness; I heard so many times that in death we all look in peace. To me, my mother just looked sad.

“This is not the time to cry, you need to take care of Becky from now on.”

That’s what dad told me, just a few step from our front door.

So I swallowed my tears; locked them back deep in my throat where they would’ve stayed, maybe it would have prevented me from breathing, but I would’ve never let them get out. Never.

I need to protect Becky.

I repeated this very phrase to myself over and over again as I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and stepped inside our house.

 

It was only after a long time that I understood what my sister had felt that day.

Because even is she was sad about our mother, she didn’t shed any tears in front of the news of her death.

I and Becky, we were more similar than I’ve ever thought we could.

Becky didn’t cry, for the same reason that I didn’t.

Because she had someone to protect, and when you have that, someone you love in that way, you don’t have the time to cry, you don’t have the time to be weak.

 

Then…

Then it came the day when two men in a uniform knocked on our door and I knew even before I opened it that something had happened, something terrible. I had a fight with my dad for the millionth times the day before, I was still sitting on my bed, thinking about the words I used against him, I wasn’t acting like a big brother, I wasn’t acting like a good son. The good guys don’t get into fights with the other kids from the neighbor, they don’t stay out after the curfew. I knew that he was right to be mad at me and after every fight I’d tell him that I would’ve changed, that I would’ve acted more like the son he expected me to be. Just, every time the time to come home got closer, every time that someone tried to pick a fight with me, staying on the street and responds to the insults always looked like an easier choice than to go back to a home where there was a hole left by mother that would’ve never be filled. It was easier to take a few punches that know that opened that door I would never see the smiles that I had received up to what seemed to me just a moment ago.

 

That time, it was me who said at Becky that wouldn’t come home to us, that he went in the same place our mother did. I looked in the eyes and I told her that we were alone now.

I hugged her because I didn’t know what else to do, because I needed that hug maybe more than she did, I needed to feel my sister’s body alive against mine, he hearth beating against my chest, I needed to know that she was still there, that even if that had left us, she was still with me.

 

Inside my mind the scenes from out last time out with our dad kept repeating in a loop, the amusement park, the ferrying wheel, where we all climbed up together, Becky’s laughters and dad’s scoldings, while I was swinging the seat at the highest point of the tour. I held onto that memory with all my strength, I held on the sound of Becky’s laughter, on the feel of her hand around mine as we walked home together with our dad beside us.

I held onto that happy memory and I decided that I would’ve done something concrete to help Becky this time, something that would give her back that smile.

 

That night, we cried on each other’s shoulders.

That night we let ourselves simply be the what we really were. Two kids whose parents had died.

And a kid, when is left alone, he cries and screams, till he has no more voice left.

 

Tomorrow we needed to become adults, because in the world we lived, there wasn’t space for the ones who weren’t able to stand on their feet, and we knew that well by now.

 

But not that night, that night, we simply cried, because the world had taken aaa from us first our mom and then our dad, because we knew that in the morning we would’ve had to left the hand we were holding while sleeping in a bed to little to contain the both of us.

We cried because the reality that knocked on out door caught us unprepared, we weren’t really ready to let her in. Sadly tho, we couldn’t chose to close the door and pretend that nothing bad had happened anymore.

 


End file.
